Lick Your Sticky Fingers
by JannP
Summary: If she was thinking about her recipe collection while his tongue was in her mouth, then maybe he wasn't working hard enough to make up for lost time. Rated M. Smutty Finchel future oneshot to fill a food fight prompt.


**A/N: **This has been a work in progress so long I can't even call out specific people who helped, really. I know the Fildos were a huge help since this was originally my haze fic. The prompt was "food-fight". But tonight especially, **Janine** (**iGoToExtremes**) was an awesome beta. And Leo (**wood-u-like-2-no**) reminded me this thing even exists. So them especially. Inspiration and title from **Shake Me Like a Monkey** by **Dave Matthews Band**. Please let me know what you think.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee or the song and no harm or infringement is intended. Thank you.

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><p><strong>Lick Your Sticky Fingers<strong>

"Hey!" Finn said, his hands sliding off the front door to grasp hers. He immediately started walking backwards, tugging her with him as he went slowly. "How was dance class?"

She groaned. "I don't think there's enough water in that studio."

His eyes slid over her, still dressed in the black capri pants and bright blue string tanktop she wore for her rehearsals. Normally, she threw a thin sweatshirt with the neck cut wide over top, just for the 'sake of modesty', but she didn't even have the energy to do that today. It was too hot outside, the pervasive temperature seeping into the ancient brick building her dance teacher had remodeled, and everything about her was listless and already sweaty.

Finn wasn't sure if he was okay with that staying the case or not. He was torn. The ginormous favor he was asking for would make the temperature like a thousand times worse and he was honestly debating between asking and just letting her relax while he tried to figure something else out.

He was still pulling her backwards, trying super hard not to look at the sweat making her chest glow like a beacon for his eyes and…he shook his head and made his decision all in one instant. "Let's get you some water then," he said softly as he backed into the kitchen. "Because I have some plans for this afternoon."

"…okay…" she said, her voice dripping in hesitation as she licked her lips. She looked down at herself. It seemed pretty clear she wasn't up for much that didn't involve, say, a swimming pool. Not that she knew anyone who had one, and the metro park beach was guaranteed to be overcrowded on a day, a week, like this.

Finn dropped one of her hands and used his newly free one to open the fridge. They both groaned appreciatively when the blast of cold air blew over them. Rachel even gave a little shiver. Finn pulled out two water bottles and elbowed the door closed again before he extended his hand toward her to take one. He started walking backward again, spinning them around so she bumped into the counter and he pressed against her a little bit. This was not an uncommon position, and it wasn't out of the ordinary for her to hoist herself up onto the cool granite. She sighed and slumped down as the slight chill of the surface seeped through the thin Lycra of her pants, providing even a miniscule amount of relief for the overheated skin. He took a step and stood between her relaxed knees as he tossed his head back to drain the bottle he'd grabbed for himself, drinking it with long swallows until it was gone before he started explaining.

"So, as you know, today is my mom's birthday," he said simply. "Her _fortieth_ birthday." Rachel was still drinking her water, her gulping still daintier than his, and she just nodded so he continued. "Well, Burt asked me and Kurt to bake her cake. And Kurt is working so…"

Rachel pulled the bottle away from her lips. "So you need _me _to make her a cake." The smile spread across her face.

"Right. Please? I'll help. I want to help."

She nodded. "Okay," she agreed easily. Her smile faltered a little bit. She brought her half-full water bottle up to the back of her neck. She sighed appreciatively, even if the condensation on the bottle was getting the bottom of her ponytail a little wet. "We'll have to do it here because my dads are remodeling."

Finn nodded. "Yeah, that's fine. Maybe we should cool you down before we get started." He dropped his head forward to the spot his eyes had focused on, unable to avoid the contact anymore, his tongue making a sloppy path up her chest and she gasped her inhale.

"That isn't going to do it," she said, her voice low in her throat. She swallowed and her eyes fluttered closed. "M-m-maybe we should just get it over with and t-t-then we can take a shower before everyone gets home."

His head popped up and he gave her a little tilt of a smile. They had only showered together a couple of times and yeah, one thing _always_ led to another. "You're the best girlfriend _ever_. Have I told you that today?"

"No," she said sweetly. "But it's _never_ too early to start with compliments." His hands trailed over her for a second and she let her eyes fall closed again as she almost whispered her next question. "What are we making? What's her favorite kind of cake?"

Finn's eyes were closed too, even the simple act of touching his girlfriend both a novelty _and_ his happy place. Their sophomore year of college had been even busier than their first year, if that was possible, and now that they were both home for the _whole_ awesome summer, he was planning on touching her as often as possible. They were only a month into the summer and…well, he approached it like he had a lot of lost time to make up for. That's all.

"Cheesecake. With fruit or something; not plain," he said. He leaned forward to give her a soft kiss, hovering above her mouth to declare "I don't think I said hello to you the right way yet," before he pressed forward and did just that.

She peeled away from him. "Oh, I have the perfect recipe!" She gushed suddenly.

Finn raised his eyebrows as he looked at her. She blew his mind. Seriously. And if she was thinking about her _recipe_ _collection_ while his tongue was in her mouth, then maybe he wasn't working hard enough to make up for lost time.

"Uh-huh," he agreed, leaning forward to start again what he had _tried_ to start before. She sighed and folded into him easily, but only for a second before her super-human self-control kicked in and she pulled away.

"We need to run to the grocery store," she breathed.

He sighed and ran an open palm over his head. "Yeah. Do you know what you need to get?"

_Of course she did_.

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><p>Finn looked at the items they had bought, still trying to figure out how they were going to make anything he could <em>eat<em>—which was saying a lot for a guy who lived in a frat house and had actually been called a human garbage disposal. (The latest appetite-related insult over the break had been Kurt calling him a _goat_. He didn't eat, like,_ actual_ garbage though so he didn't get how Kurt felt okay calling him that.) Anyway, there were just _a lot _of ingredients here.

"Explain this to me again," he said. Rachel looked over at him. She was still flushed, but not so bad now that they were back in the kitchen with temperature control. He was totally going to ignore the fact that he couldn't decide if he'd rather see her red _or_ sweaty, but he didn't really want the current heat wave to be the cause regardless.

She sighed and leaned forward on the counter. "Well, it's just a matter of substitutions. Kind of like when you said putting in the second string sometimes works better?"

His eyes slid over to her and he bit back a smile. Of course she listened when he rattled on and on about basketball—she really _was_ the perfect girlfriend once they were settled into their relationship. It had been a tough adjustment for him to go from captain in high school to all but red-shirting in college, but it was getting better. He had gotten more play last season and… whatever. She was trying to make a sport metaphor and he wasn't really going to stop her.

Not that he _could._ She was continuing without him.

"…so we can swap out the full-fat cream cheese for the reduced fat version that's called Neufchatel, and use a little less sugar and lighter dairy products…" she shrugged. "It's still _cheesecake_ so I don't think it will ever be healthy enough Burt could eat more than a little bit."

"Well, wait. What about you, though? You'll be around for the family thing, right? I mean…even if you're not eating it or…"

"Yeah," she said. She smiled and shrugged. "It's fine…but will you do the part with the eggs?"

He wanted to frown that she was going to do all this work for them and not enjoy it, but then she gave a delicate little shudder when she mentioned eggs and instead he had to fight not to laugh. He might've been used to it, because she always asked him to, but it was still kind of cute.

"Yeah, I'll do the eggs," he replied. "What all do we have to do though?"

He should've known, as she launched into her explanation at what he could only estimate was like 500 words per minute, that she would lose him again like she had in the store as she muttered to herself under her breath in the baking aisle. But she _always _knew what she was doing while she was baking so he totally trusted her with this.

"—have definitely noticed you aren't paying attention anyway, so let's get started, shall we?" She finished up. "We should get the oven started. Will you set it to 325 degrees?"

"Sure," he agreed. He turned to do just what she had asked and when he looked back she was standing on her very tip-toes, stretching up toward the cupboard with the mixing bowls. She had actually baked with his mom before and knew where everything in Carole's well-stocked kitchen was. But knowing where it was and being able to reach it were two _totally_ different things. She pressed her butt out just a little bit, looking for any way to get more height, and he groaned. Her tanktop wasn't exactly _loose_ but it rode up as she raised her arm, just enough that he could see her body better and her ass looked _awesome_ in those pants. She grunted with her effort and he thought he might die if she didn't just _stop_.

He purposefully crossed the room and stood behind her, easily reaching the bowl she needed and maybe, just maybe rubbing up against her a little bit. Y'know, accidentally on purpose.

He dropped a kiss on her head as he dropped the bowl on the counter. "There ya go."

She leaned back against him but didn't say a word. He really, really loved her way of saying thank you.

"I think the next thing I need you to do is boil some water," she said, turning her head toward him so that her words hit him in the chest, and smiling even as she made her next, sneaky comment. "Do you think you can handle that?"

"I can handle that," he said simply. His voice was already a little lower. The temperature in the kitchen had already gone up at least a couple of degrees with the preheating oven. He could feel himself starting to sweat (I was over a hundred degrees outside and their air conditioner could only handle so much abuse; baking on top of the size of the house just seemed kind of mean to the aging appliance. Oh well.) He didn't especially want to boil water and make it…y'know…_wetter_.

He shivered a little bit at the thought of that.

She looked at him like he was a freak. "There is _no way_ you're cold," she said. She had wondered briefly if showing up in her dance clothes and still all sweaty would be just _too much_ for him to handle. He was terrible at impulse control and that had only gotten worse once sex had been fully introduced to their relationship. Speaking of recipes, adding in a long distance factor had just kind of made a recipe for disaster. So she could admit she had quite likely been flirting with dangerous territory when she showed up like that, but in that moment (and this moment, too, if one were being honest), she was just too hot to care—or to possibly add any other clothing.

"You need most of the raspberries in there, too. I'll get the other stuff."

He had filled the pan with just a little bit of water (from a measuring cup, like he was asked to do) and set it on the burner before flipping it on. "Do I just dump the whole thing in?" He asked, his voice kind of small and unsure. He dangled his hand with the little plastic bag of raspberries over the water uncertainly.

"Just most of it," she murmured, concentrating on measuring out a few other things she dumped into the pan. He tipped the raspberries in with the sugar and… whatever else she had added. He didn't really see because when she leaned forward at the sharp angle to reach from the countertop to the stove, he caught an unexpected peek down her tanktop. Her boobs were awesome. He wondered if that was the part of her he missed the most.

_They were definitely in the top five. Maybe the top three. It depended on how many times he had to say 'her mouth' on the list to cover all the different things she could do with it. She could sing, she could talk, she could kiss—man, could she kiss—and she could suc- _

He was distracted from that train of thought by the package of Oreos smacking into his stomach. He grunted lightly and rested his hands on it to hold on.

"Will you please crush enough of those to make one cup? And then I have another job for you."

"I have a question," he said, looking over the package she had handed him. She looked at him expectantly, turning away from where she was melting vegan butter. She claimed the local grocery store didn't have a valid substitute for the eggs or cream cheese, but the butter was pretty good. He hadn't noticed a difference when she baked for him, but he was still holding out judgment until he tasted it for sure.

_See, Kurt. Not a fucking goat, all right? I have standards._

"What good are Oreos when they're missing the best part?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well…since we aren't eating them, I thought it best to get the ones that would crumble easiest."

"We aren't eating them?" He asked doubtfully. She slapped a Ziploc baggie down on the counter with emphasis.

"Not right now. Right now, you crush."

He did what she requested and then paused to watch her in motion. In the time it had taken him to crush up the Oreo things, she had stirred the raspberry syrup stuff repeatedly, covered a pan in a thick layer of aluminum foil, mixed some sugar and butter in a bowl, and set it right in front of him. He assumed he was supposed to dump the crumbs in it and mix it together. It was all for the crust, he wasn't a total idiot, but he also knew she had some trick with the bottom of a glass she used to make it spread evenly in the pan so he mixed it up and let it sit. She was totally focused on the task at her hand, boiling more water in the bottom of yet another pan with a metal bowl tucked in the top now that the raspberry sauce was completed and the burner underneath it was turned off.

He stepped right beside her, knowing better than to try pulling her away from where she was starting to pour white chocolate chips into the bowl, stirring it with the soy milk she had already added. He wrapped his arms around her and dropped his mouth to her neck to press a kiss to the spot just underneath her ear. The chocolate chips fell in a sudden avalanche almost totally filling the small bowl. She could barely bring herself to care for one hazy moment when his tongue toyed with the small, studded earring she was wearing. She could feel his teeth against the metal nub and she shivered a little before she used her butt on his thighs to gently push him away.

"I have to…" she reached for the spoon she had gotten out to stir the melting chocolate and she deftly scooped a bunch out of the bowl as he stepped back against her and lowered his mouth to her ear again. She flung the spoon backwards for some reason as she tried to turn around, intending to ask him to _please_ just let her get the cheesecake in the oven. (She knew the dessert would have to sit for almost eight hours before it was fully ready to eat, so she had to get it in the oven quickly. No time for distractions, even if she was all for being _distracted_ later.)

She felt the spoon make contact with his nose and bit her lip before his grip on her tanktop loosened in surprise and she turned around to look at him. She'd hit him square in the nose with the chocolate coated spoon, but since the mixture was only half melted it was sliding down onto his cheek in an awkward lump.

He blinked in surprise and looked over her equally surprised face. He reached behind her, dipped his finger into the cooling pan of raspberry sauce, and ran his finger over her exposed collarbone. "It's _on_."

"You _do not_want to go there," she said sharply. She fumbled behind her, reaching off to the side where she'd left the small, Tupperware container his mom used for white sugar. The lid was still off and she managed a small handful, but there were still grains sliding through her fingers as she rose up on her tiptoes and raised her hands to the top of his head before opening them into his hair.

"No, _you_ don't," he said simply, grabbing at the bowl of stuff for the crust he had finished mixing together.

She narrowed her eyes. "I will have you know I'm the Berry family food-fight champion," she said simply. "Every family reunion since I was five. I have a trophy."

He didn't look away from her, not once. "I'm sure." He totally should've watched what she was doing instead of the look on her face. He felt the waistband on his shorts pull away from his body and realized his mistake just a second too late as some of the crust fell down his pants, the bowl in his hand now half-empty as she had grabbed as much as possible in her small hand before dropping it down.

"Who's cleaning that up?" She asked, her tone thick with false innocence. He looked down; not all of it had fallen, but saw some of it trailing down his legs and landing on the floor. He could feel what had been left behind, but there was just no way to dance that out at the moment. She placed the bowl back on the counter and looked at him with a tipped head and a curious smile.

He swiped the bag that held the last bit of frozen raspberries from the counter, deftly maneuvering it behind his back so she couldn't see what he was doing while they maintained their eye contact. He took a huge step back, leaving an Oreo-butter-crumb trail as he went. The chocolate chips that had been stuck to his cheek slid a little with his movement, landing on the corner of his mouth, and he swiped his tongue out to wipe it off. He didn't miss the fact that her eyes were on him the whole time, watching the movement of his tongue with total fascination, which made it easier for him to pick a handful of raspberries out of the bag behind his back and then pelt her with them one at a time in rapid-fire succession.

He was the quarterback for a reason, his aim was nearly perfect, and the seven berries he threw bounced right down into the camisole top she was wearing, somewhere between her breasts. Well, okay. Most of them went down her shirt. The ones that didn't left little red marks on her skin and fell to the floor. But even the five red marks were in nearly the same spot, a straight line of polka dots spread across her flushed skin.

Her jaw dropped in surprise. "Finn! That went down my shirt!" She gasped as she looked down and brought her shoulders forward so she could see down her shirt to get them out. They were only mostly frozen at this point and it would not be very long against her body heat before they were not at all frozen. He took advantage of the shirt pulling away from her skin to throw a few more. "Finn!"

"Eh, I'll get 'em later," he said.

She gasped her annoyance. "You will _not_."

There was a flash of quick motion as she turned to grab the cornstarch, the lid still off the small tin can to make it all the more threatening. Meanwhile, he dropped the now-empty bag of raspberries and turned to the counter that was directly behind him to retrieve the cream cheese they had unwrapped and set out to soften in a bowl. The bricks were already softened and he settled for digging in, taking some odd satisfaction in the fact that his hands were big enough to pick up the entire mostly-melted lump.

"I will kick your ass _so hard_," she said firmly. They stayed like that for only a moment before he began his predatory advance again and when they locked together, he found himself surprised by the brute force of her strength. He'd known she was sneaky hot _and_ sneaky strong. And they had wrestled a time or two, like actual wrestling and not with air-quotes, but she was determined to keep his cream-cheesy hands off her this time as she dug her heels into the tile floor, stepping one foot just inside his ankle.

The cream cheese was not necessarily cold, and the heat from his hands and the kitchen was making it less cold by the second so that some had dripped onto the floor. As she did some sort of arm ninja maneuver that caused the cornstarch in her hand to snow down all over him, his bare foot hit the cream cheese drip on the tile and his loss of traction combined with her positioning meant she took him down.

She took him down. _SHE TOOK HIM DOWN_.

"Fuck, are you _serious_?" He muttered as he unabashedly grabbed onto her waist and pulled her down with him when he stumbled. He made sure he moved his hands over as much of the the well-known terrain of her body as he could while she slipped with him, absolutely coating in her the cream cheese ball he held.

His next order of business as they sprawled on the kitchen floor was to get the damn cornstarch away from her because she had coated him in enough of it that the cream cheese was turning into paste with the addition. He stretched his arm out, trying to take it from her and her arms were like six inches shorter than his so how _how_ did she keep it away for so long?

She was flat on her back on the cream cheese paste floor and he had kicked one leg over her so his body was half sprawled on top of her. His hand finally closed around the empty cornstarch tin but his grin of victory was short lived when he felt something warm dripping down the back of his neck. He looked down at her and blinked once, a little confused until he saw the raspberry syrup dripping off the bottom of his neck and onto her chest. She shot him a blinding smile. He reached his arm up and back at an awkward angle, aiming for the handle on the saucepan she held, but he missed and instead caught the end of the spoon. His flat-handed slap sent the spoon catapulting out of the pan, straight up from where she had twisted her wrist to stop the pan from dripping on him. He saw her eyes get big and then felt the spoon land on the back of his right leg with a wet, muted whack.

Her hesitant laugh, the one she squeaked out when she closed her eyes tightly, was contagious. He looked down at her; she was covered in cream cheese, cornstarch, and crust crumbs, then smeared with raspberry even as more continued to drip off of him onto her. He couldn't help laughing, too. The full force of her smile and that laugh that he could feel coming from her stomach as his side pressed against it were _not_ enough to distract him. He successfully stopped her attempt to pull the _other_ pan down from the stove by smacking it quickly and sending it sliding back on the flat-top surface.

The small shift changed everything about how he was pressed against her and he barely even noticed the chunk of Oreo sugar butter that he was pretty sure was trying to stab him in the groin (whatever, maybe he should've done a better job with the crushing in the first place). He could hear her breathing change a little, too. His laughter faded and his eyes swept over her face again before he leaned forward and snaked his tongue out to run along the column of her throat where the raspberry syrup had pooled and then spread slightly into an almost heart shape. He shifted up even as his lips fastened to her skin, coming to rest above her with a knee on either side of her hips.

"You're a total mess," he murmured, letting his mouth brush against her cream cheese skin.

"You're worse. I think I won," she noted and he did not miss the edge of satisfaction in her voice as she declared her victory.

"You think so?" He asked. "I think I win."

She tossed the pan aside and brought her hands up to dust at his hair. A little sugar and a lot of cornstarch drifted down onto her face. She closed her eyes as she laughed. "Besides, I'm pretty sure that spoon is stuck to the back of your leg and it's going to leave a bald spot when we pull it off."

His eyes looked slowly over her face and he didn't crack a smile. "Yeah, but _you_ aren't going to lick cream cheese off of _me_ because they didn't have that vegan stuff," he said, his voice low and close. She shivered a little bit in spite of the heat all around them.

She wasn't sure which was hotter: the air where they were laying by the oven or the way he was looking at her. Either thing could've been why it was so hard for her to breathe. When he dropped his head back to her chest, she closed her eyes tight and dug her fingers into his hair. She _almost_ felt bad for the grainy feel of sugar that was still rubbing against his scalp but…then not bad because she _had_ won whether he admitted it or not. Twice now.

Her breathy little sigh went straight through him and he straightened his legs out, not surprised in the least by her tandem motion when she brought her knees up to cradle his hips as he pressed against her. He barely touched down before he was moving over her chest, making sure he got every drop of raspberry syrup cleaned off her skin. That stuff tasted good, but somehow when he tasted it and tasted her, it was even better.

He was pretty sure his mom was missing out because there was no way they were going to actually finish making this cheesecake, given that he was eating it _off_ the girl who was supposed to be helping him make it. _Oh well_. He absently wondered if his mom would be okay taking one for the team….followed by a vague pondering about why he was thinking about anything like that or how he could think about it when he had the super sexy love of his life pinned on the ground beneath him. He shook his head.

"I think the bakery will have _something_,_" _Rachel mentioned, her voice hitching when he lifted up the tanktop to kiss her stomach.

He sat back and frowned. "Hmm." He looked so much like a confused little boy lost in a candy store that she couldn't help laughing.

"What's…" she could barely get the words out, so she licked her lips and tried again. Her eyes dropped down to his Ohio State t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, the familiar logo almost totally obscured with cream cheese and swirled with raspberry. He looked good enough to eat and she thought she might finally understand where that strange sentiment had ever begun. Clearly, it was during a food fight while the originator's boyfriend had them coated in dessert and pinned to the kitchen floor. "What's the problem?"

"Well…" he said. He bit his lip before his eyes met her and she saw the mischief dancing in them. Whatever this was, it was going to be the most tragically lame flirting she had experienced. She could just _tell_. "I promised to lick all of this off you, but I didn't do a very good job getting it _everywhere_."

"So does that mean _I _won?" she asked. She could feel a vague throbbing where he'd been rubbing against her before and pulled away so abruptly. There would be no focusing until the cheesecake was finished cooking. There would be no… this was quite possibly the closest she would ever get to mud wrestling.

Who was she kidding? Her focus was shot. The best she could hope for now was victory and she wasn't even sure what that entailed because… well, didn't _everyone _win when they got down to it? She thought so.

"No," he said eventually. "It just means I need to try harder."

She couldn't see where he was reaching, exactly, because his arm was in the way and she was distracted by the definition in his tricep; that didn't mean there was more than one possibility anyway because she was laying with her head just inches from the stove. He was reaching for the melted chocolate. She felt the anticipation of it _in_ her stomach before anything hit her skin.

It had cooled to the point it didn't sting when it hit, but the warmth of it and the warmth of _him_ spread through her so quickly the only thing she could do was close her eyes and enjoy it when his tongue hit her skin, swiping in broad strokes all around the plane before he sucked on her bellybutton. The slurping noise was both awkwardly hilarious and enough to make her bump her hips up toward him impatiently.

He took the hint and dragged the pants down her legs and it wasn't without a little effort because they were both caked in what could only be described as glue. It was the first time he realized this was going to be a bitch to clean up. _Oh_ _well—too far gone to stop now. _ There was no way he was going to deny her while she was looking at him like _that_ and there was a pan full of melted chocolate sitting next to her.

It was like the best of both worlds, really. Rachel _being_ dessert. It was his two favorite things put together in a whole new way. They were totally doing this shit again. And again and again and again.

Before she could say anything or protest in any way, he dropped down to kiss the inside of her thigh. Her skin tasted like raspberries but only sort of, like maybe she'd just used some kind of raspberry soap earlier. He dipped his finger in the pot and then swiped it over the path his tongue had just taken. Her sharp inhale was her only reaction. He bent back down to taste again and he felt her hands in his hair and heard her gasp.

"You taste pretty good," he said, not pulling his lips off her skin. He dragged them further down. He knew what she wanted—it was really pretty obvious at this point. But he knew what he wanted too, and it involved more chocolate.

He dipped his whole hand in the pan and let the chocolate drizzle all over her, not particular about where it went (even though most of it landed in the same place.) By the time her skin was cleaned off and his tongue got his first taste of just her, she was tugging at his hair and rolling her head back and forth on the tile. Her chest was heaving as she struggled to breathe and he dove right in this time; they'd had enough lead in and he barely had a chance to trace the wet folds of her sex and then lick one thick stripe up the middle before she'd hooked her thighs over his shoulders and started grinding against his face. His fingers still had warm, melted chocolate all over them when he eased them into her body as he tongue danced over her. All it did was make her taste sweeter and she fell apart against him, not even managing to say his name as he body pulsed around his fingers.

He pulled them out and pulled back to lose his shorts as fast as possible (they were sticky and caked in…whatever…and it wasn't the easiest task.) She always wanted him inside her before she had totally come down from whatever he'd done to her first and it wasn't usually even a challenge any more to make it happen because it felt good so he'd be dumb to deny her something she said turned her on even more.

But this time, he kind of wanted to at least tease her. Push her buttons a little, as it were.

So she was ready for him when he dropped back down on top of her and rested on his elbows, using a hand and his hips to line everything up before he kissed her lips.

"Mmm…" she said simply. Her eyes were blazing and he could feel all the heat from her gaze. He barely got his next words out.

"Say it," he said.

She scowled in confusion and her words were breathy. "Say _what_?"

"I won," he said. He brought his hands together in her hair, barely able to wiggle his fingers through her usually-silken strands.

"I still say it was at least a tie," she said in a rush.

He pressed his hips forward a little bit, teasing her more. She groaned beneath him when she realized he was stopping.

"_Say it_," he persisted.

He honestly kind of wondered which side of her would win out—her competitive side or the side that wanted multiple orgasms.

"You…you…"

He lowered his mouth to hers, letting his breath dance over her lips. "All you have to do is say I win and I'll do it—_hard_. I know what you like."

"But you…"

"C'mon, Rachel….it's not that hard," he coaxed. He scowled a little bit; if she took that dirty, he was totally lying. It _was_. He pulled away from her.

"You…you win," she choked out. "Please…please…"

The rest of her words were drowned out by her breathless whine when he kept his promise and he entered her body with one swift thrust. She brought her legs up so her heels dug into his back and he sunk further into her as he struggled to find a rhythm and traction.

"Harder…" she begged.

He chuckled a little bit as he slipped his hand around her, trying to get his hand or something between them and the slippery floor. "I'm trying," he said. She brought her hands to his cheeks and he didn't care that they were both totally covered in whatever as she kissed him like that, her tongue rubbing against him like he was rubbing against her. His hand had just enough grip on the floor that he sped up and, when she tilted her hips and changed the angle, he knew she was close to coming again, just by her breathing.

"Come with me," she said finally. "Please…just…" her fingernails scraped at the back of his neck and she went still against him suddenly, her eyes snapping closed and her breathing almost stopping entirely. Her tight body pulsing against him pulled him over with her and he buried his face in her neck, muffling whatever came out of his mouth and blinding him entirely.

The first sense that came back to him was smell and he caught the heady smell of sex and almost-cheesecake. The second sense was touch and he realized he'd actually held the curve of her butt so tight she'd probably have a mark. He relaxed his fingers a little bit and pulled back to look at her as his hearing came back to him.

"I'm not cleaning this up," Kurt said simply. Finn felt Rachel tense underneath him and _not_ in the good way. "And by the looks of it, you two had better disengage and get started sooner rather than later." He had stepped past them, moving carefully to the fridge to take a bottle of water and miss the mess on the floor.

"Oh, and I ordered Carole's cake from the bakery two days ago, Finn. My dad will stop and pick it up on his way home from the shop."

With that, he walked out of the room and by the sounds of it, back out of the house; he frequently came home for lunch breaks and this day was no exception. Plus, he'd caught them so many times it wasn't like their compromising position was an exception, either.

Finn was still inside her when she started laughing and he gave one soft thrust for friction before he pulled out entirely.

"Well…I guess _everyone_ wins then," she said simply.

"Nope. _I_ win," he countered. "You said so yourself."

"Race you to the shower? If I will, we'll call it a draw."

"Deal," he agreed. He knew it was important to her, but…well…he was running behind her and she was mostly naked and yeah...

…he was still the clear winner.


End file.
